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The Diminutive Russian -- Part II
The beautiful weather of the past few days has clearly reinvigorated DC and its residents. People are outside more with smiles as warm as the 70 degree temperatures. I, too, have been enjoying this early bout of Spring Fever and found myself walking around Dupont Circle on Friday. As I headed back down P Street towards Whole Foods, I saw him walking towards me.
"Him? Who is he?" you might be wondering.
The Diminutive Russian. The guy I moved to DC for.
I laughed to myself. DC is small, but as I've said before, my world is especially small. He saw me the moment he crossed the street, and we caught up for a few minutes. In the good news category, The Diminutive Russian looks healthier than he did when I saw him last in 2005. I wondered if he's cut back on the vodka and pain pills, but it didn't seem appropriate to ask him about that. (Yes, at times, I can be restrained -- lol.) He also bought a condo, which seems appropriate since he's almost 37.
In the not surprising category, The Diminutive Russian is still a bartender. He's behind the bar at a very nice, Washingtonian Top 100 restaurant, but for an intelligent guy who reads Oscar Wilde for pleasure, it's a shame that he never moved on from bartending.
He gave me his number and asked me to call him or come by the restaurant. I said,
"Sure. Once I'm settled into my new place." Translation: I won't be going out of my way to see you, but if I'm with a friend and we want to try the food at your restaurant, I'll stop by.
It was funny to randomly see him, especially since The Diminutive Russian has been on my mind of late. I'm renting out my apartment to a Russian guy with the same name as him. Also, I wrote my first post about The Diminutive Russian, after finding out through Facebook that one of my friends was friends with Kristen. (She's the married woman that The Diminutive Russian loved back in 1993-1994.) My friend had never met him, but when she asked how I knew Kristen, I proceeded to tell her the story of how I ended up moving to DC.
After I ran into The Diminutive Russian on P Street on Friday, I started thinking about the times that I had seen him since the 1997 rendezvous that I described in my earlier post...
In 2000, I went for drinks and appetizers with my friend at Grillfish. Much to my surprise, The Diminutive Russian was behind the bar. He and I were both living and working in the West End so it wasn't that odd that I ran into him again a month after our encounter at Grillfish. In 2000-2001, I was bored and it was convenient so on occasion, we would watch movies or hook up.
I wanted to be attracted to him again, but I just wasn't. Back in 1994, one of his friends commented that "The Diminutive Russian was put on this planet to fuck women. That is the only thing he is good at." Although that was crass (and an odd statement for a guy to make about another guy), it was true.
In the three years from 1997-2000, The Diminutive Russian married, had a child and divorced. His ex broke his heart, and he was understandably depressed about that situation. He was getting drunk every night and trying to get his hands on whatever pills he could find. Sexually, he had lost his mojo. I loved having sex with him when I was 20 years old, but by 2000, I was just hoping that he would finish so I could go to sleep.
He also had gotten very belligerent, and I had no tolerance for that. When I got involved with Married Matt, I stopped hanging out with The Diminutive Russian.
We didn't talk for several years, but reconnected after we ran into each other in the pouring summer rain on K Street in August of 2004. We decided to grab dinner a few nights later. The food was amazing, and the conversation was interesting.
"I told some of my old intern friends that we were going out, and they laughed. What a crazy summer that was!" I said.
"I didn't treat you that well, did I?" The Diminutive Russian asked me.
"No. You didn't. But, that was 11 years ago, I'm over it," I responded.
"I'm sorry. I was in a different place back then. I could handle being your boyfriend now. I would be there for you," he confessed.
"Umm...I think we're better as friends, but thanks. Anyway, I don't hold grudges. Back then, I thought I was moving to DC for you, but I realized pretty quickly on that I moved here for me. Everything worked out the way it was supposed to," I told him.
We went back to my apartment to watch a movie, and The Diminutive Russian was all over me. I fended him off, and told him that he could either go to sleep or I would drive him home. He finally got the hint and fell asleep.
Seven months later, I was at Eye Bar with The Crummer. I turned and saw that The Diminutive Russian was there with some friends. We talked for a couple of minutes, but I kept our conversation short. I really wanted to hang out with the guy that I was with. That night, The Diminutive Russian called me several times. I didn't pick up.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. This is DC. These are my stories. [Insert Law & Order doink-doink sound here.]
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